Sorry
by Littleforest
Summary: [Complete] In the aftermath of the Season 3 episode 'Protest', Don experiences a rare moment of doubt over his chosen career and Alan has to finally let go of his own past in order to set his son straight.


**Disclaimer:** Numb3rs - and all the characters and settings related to the show - do not belong to me. This short story, however, does.

 **A/N –** Hello, and welcome to my second Numb3rs story. This is a little different to my last story, because it's basically an alternative ending/extension to one of my favourite episodes - 'Protest' (Season 3, Episode 16). And before you start reading, I just want to clarify that the reason I've written this is _not_ because I think that the show did a bad job of that episode (quite the opposite in fact). However it is the curse of a fanfiction writer to always want to add on the foundations laid down by the show, and in this case, I simply couldn't help myself. All I hope is that you get some enjoyment out of it too. So without further ado, on with the story...

* * *

 **~ Sorry ~**

* * *

"Hey, Dad."

Alan barely lifted his head from his newspaper as he heard the tentative voice drifted towards him. He could feel the air shifting as Don slowly made his way into the room, but other than a slight glance in his direction, Alan didn't outwardly react to his son's presence. The truth was he still hadn't quite let go of the simmering anger that had been building over the last few days.

Alan sighed and kept his eyes down on his paper. It wasn't even Don's fault really – at least not entirely – but as hard as Alan had tried to let go of it, the anger had stubbornly remained. Even after everything had settled down, he couldn't help but be a little bit angry. The memories were still too raw, even now.

 _Especially_ now, Alan amended silently, since his 'partner in crime' – his wife – was no longer with him. There was no one left to calm him down…

"Hi," Alan replied as Don moved closed, his voice a little short as he glanced up once more before returning his attention to his newspaper. If Donnie wanted to apologise that was fine, but Alan wasn't going to beg for it.

"Charlie did a good job on this, huh?" Don continued as he gestured awkwardly towards the newly finished glass cabinet. Alan hid his knowing smile, amusement offering a brief respite from the burning anger; his son thought he was so stoic and unreadable, but it was painfully obvious that his rather pitiful attempt at small talk was just a way for Don to build up to an uncomfortable subject.

"Yeah, I like it," Alan said absently, eyes fixed downwards. Of course, he also knew that Don was much more likely to talk if he wasn't pushed into it…

"Look, you know," Don began awkwardly. "I'm aware that the bureau has some bad history."

Alan almost scoffed at the understatement but managed to hold his tongue. After all, it wasn't every day that Don chose to talk things out instead of holding it all inside.

"Is that an apology?" Alan pushed when he became clear that Don wasn't going to say anything more. Once again, Alan found that he wasn't really in the mood to make it easy for his son.

Of course, in true Eppes fashion, Don wasn't going to make it easy for him either.

"I'm just saying," Don said as he turned away. "It was a different time, and I know that."

"Donnie, I'm the same guy I was then," Alan said, turning the page off his paper, even though he hadn't read a single word from the moment Don had entered the room. "I still believe in the same things."

And he did, Alan told himself. He knew it as surely as he knew his own name. He was no different to the person he'd been back then. And Donnie…well, Donnie was every inch the law enforcement officer he'd trained to be.

"Yeah, well good," Don muttered, pacing back and forth slightly. Alan assessed him over the top of his glasses. Don seemed a little on edge, but okay enough, so Alan decided it was probably safe for him to stop beating around the bush and actually get to bottom of what was bothering them both.

"You know when you told me you were going to join the FBI, you know what my first thought was? Alan asked finally. This time Alan made eye-contact with his son.

Don tensed, but didn't make any move to leave. They'd been building to this conversation for the last couple of days - years really - and both of them knew it. They'd wasted far too much time leaving things unsaid, and it had probably caused some damage – although hopeful not the irreparable kind. Alan put down his paper and removed his reading glasses. Yes, it was time.

"Where'd I go wrong?" Don shot back bitterly, jerking his head defiantly as if he honestly believed the answer. It should have bothered him, but as Alan watched Don, stood there with shoulders squared and looking every inch the FBI agent he was, Don only served to remind him of all the cops he'd dealt with back in the Seventies.

And the comparison certainly didn't bring back good memories…

"Honestly, yes," Alan said, unapologetically. "Because I thought you wanted to do something as different from Charlie and the rest of us as possible."

"Of course that's what you would think," Don muttered angrily. "Listen, I get that you don't agree with my life choices, but not everything I do is because of you, Mom or Charlie."

Alan paused, unsure of how to reply. This wasn't the way he'd pictured this going. "Don, that's not what I meant –"

"Well, it's what I heard," Don shot back, and the anger was unmistakable in his voice. Clearly there was plenty of anger to go around in the Eppes family. "Obviously I can't have my own reasons for joining the Bureau."

Alan found himself feeling a little desperate now. "Don – "

Don held up his hand. "You know what, Dad? Save it. I guess you're not ready to talk after all."

This time Don moved purposely towards the door, grabbing his coat along the way. He didn't even look back.

"Tell Charlie I'll see him sometime tomorrow," Don told him with his back to Alan as he pulled open the door and stepped outside.

And then before Alan could even say a word, before he could even comprehend what had just happened, Don was gone.

* * *

"You okay, Dad?"

Alan sighed and tiredly rubbed a hand over his face. Charlie stood next to his chair, concern etched across his features, and Alan wondered how long Charlie had been trying to get his attention; he'd been so lost in his thoughts that he hadn't even noticed Charlie approach.

"Dad," repeated Charlie. "Are you okay?"

Oh, Donnie…

"Not really," Alan replied, too tired to give his son anything but the truth. Had he ruined it? Had he destroyed his relationship with Don? Don was a stubborn, strong man, but he didn't rise to anger easily. Alan's misjudged words were the spark, no doubt, but they weren't the kindling. There was more to this. More that he didn't understand…

"I need to see your brother," Alan said, pulling himself up out of his chair. His bones creaked but he ignored the ache.

"Are you sure?" Charlie asked in a way that told Alan that he'd at least heard some of their conversation. Probably all of it, if he knew Charlie. "He seemed pretty mad at you."

"You know your brother, Charlie," Alan said softly. "If I let this fester now, Don will have this buried by the morning. Then there'll be no talking to him about it."

Charlie nodded reluctantly. "Do you want me to come with you?"

Alan shook his head. "I think this is a conversation Donnie and I need to have alone."

"Okay, dad," Charlie said quietly. "But be careful, please."

It was a measure of how far Don and Charlie had come in their relationship that Alan instinctively knew Charlie was telling him to be careful for _Don's_ sake, not his.

Alan tried to smile but he had a feeling it came across more like a grimace. "If I'm not back in an hour, call Megan," he joked. "I'll probably need backup."

Charlie didn't laugh, so he didn't either. The truth was he didn't much feel like laughing anyway. In fact, as he picked up his own coat and headed out of the door, he'd never felt less like laughing in his whole life.

* * *

It didn't take him long to get to Don's apartment, which was both a relief and a curse. On the one hand, the sooner he arrived, the sooner he could fix whatever was wrong. On the other hand…

Well, the sooner he arrived, the less time he had to actually _work out_ what was wrong.

Mustering his courage as best he could, however, Alan took a decisive step forward and knocked on his eldest's door. Because ultimately he knew he'd hate himself if he didn't at least try.

It took a minute for Don to answer, and when he did, his son immediately planted himself in the doorway, halting any further progress on Alan's part. Alan, who had expected this kind of reception, wasn't at all put off by the less than warm welcome.

"Dad," Don began wearily. "Do we really need to do this now? I'm tired and it's been a long week. I'm sorry I was such an ass to you, okay? I'll make it up to you tomorrow."

Don made to close his door then, but Alan put his hand out to stop him. After all, Don hadn't got all his stubbornness from his mother...

"Donnie," Alan replied softly. "I'm not leaving until we've talked this through. If that means I have to stay out here all night I will, no matter what the neighbours might think."

Don obviously knew his father well enough to realise that it was no empty threat because he finally opened the door fully and allowed Alan entry. Alan quickly took Don up on the invitation before his son changed his mind.

They walked over to the couch in silence, as if both in agreement that if they were going to hash out their issues, it would be better to do it in a place of relative comfort. Then Alan turned to his first born.

"So…"

"Look, I really am sorry, Dad," Don interrupted, wearily rubbing at his eyes. "I've been working late for the last few days trying to wrap this damn case up, and I really need to sleep."

"It's more than that, son," Alan told his with a shake of his head. "What you said before…"

"I didn't mean it – "

"Yes, you did, Don," Alan replied with a sigh. "You're not the type to say something you don't mean."

"Neither are you," Don shot back as if it was an insult. Maybe, in his eyes, it was.

"I say what I believe," Alan allowed. " I _know_ what I believe. Just like you."

Don shook his head. "I'm not so sure anymore…"

"Donnie…"

"I talked to Charlie earlier," Don interrupted. "About the protests. The arrests. He doesn't get it, not really."

"And you do?" Alan asked quietly.

"I was there," Don replied with a challenge in his eyes. "I remember."

"You were only three," Alan said, eyes widening slightly.

"This case brought it all back," Don replied tiredly. "Charlie was lucky. He missed out of all the 'fun'…"

Alan made to reply, but there was something in Don's tone that gave him pause. Surely he didn't mean…?

"By the time Charlie was born, the war was over," Alan said. Don tensed, which told Alan he was on the right track. "That was the only reason we stopped protesting. The _only_ reason, Don. We didn't stop _because_ of him."

"Yeah, well, I guess I know that now," Don replied, keeping his gaze down, emphasis on the word 'now'. Alan wondered how long Don had been holding on to the thought that his parents cared enough about Charlie to take themselves out of harm's way when he was born, but that they hadn't cared enough about Don to even consider it when he was born.

"But you didn't know it back then," Alan said quietly, and it wasn't a question. Because he already knew…

"It's no big deal," Don shrugged off. "Yeah, I admit that it bothered me for a few years, but I forgot about it eventually. At least until they ran a background check when I joined the Bureau."

"Donnie, I'm sorry if our actions ever caused you any trouble," Alan said, "But I'm not sorry for what we did back then. What we did was important – "

"Yeah, well so's what I'm doing now," Don replied a little testily.

And suddenly they were back to Don's job again. The one issue that he and his son would probably never totally agree on, although perhaps not quite for the reason's Don thought…

"I know that," Alan said.

"Things have changed, Dad," Don said quietly. "I know you don't believe that, but it's true. The FBI that I'm a part of…it isn't the same one that came at you back then. It isn't."

Alan was about to respond, to defend himself, but he found the words got stuck in his throat again as soon as he looked his eldest in the eye. Because he didn't see anger in his son's eyes, but self-doubt.

The important words were left unsaid. _I'm not like them…_

Except it felt as if Don didn't really know that after all. Like he was trying to convince himself of that fact as much as he was trying to convince his father.

And suddenly, Alan realised that they'd got to the crux of the matter, because Don, with all his confidence and unwavering sense of justice, wasn't sure himself if he'd made the right decision all those years ago; and Alan, albeit unwittingly, had fanned the flame of that self-doubt into a full on raging fire.

Damn…

"Don," Alan began, but for once in his life, he didn't know what to say.

"You know, after we finally arrested Jack Bennett's kid, I had a conversation with Tom Lawson," Don continued quietly. Alan knew better to interrupt, letting his son find the words he wanted to say. "I wanted to know how deep it went. I mean, his guys started a chain reaction that was still causing deaths over two decades later, and I guess I just wanted him to care about that. I wanted him to understand that there was a cost to what they did back then. And that maybe the cost wasn't worth it."

"And did he?" Alan asked, although he already knew the answer. "Did he understand?"

Don shook his head. "He didn't even seem to get why it mattered to me so much. He told me "Our job is to protect, by any means." I mean, can you believe that?"

Alan absolutely _could_ believe that, but he didn't say so.

"And what did you say?" Alan asked instead.

"I told him that it's that sort of attitude that gives the Bureau a bad name and that it always comes back to haunt us," Don replied with a pained looked on his face. "Just like it did this time."

"That's not your fault, Donnie," Alan said. "You know that."

"I'm one of them, remember," Don replied, bitterness creeping into his tone. Alan didn't blame him for that. He felt like a stupid old man who had been so focused on decades old battles that he had missed what was right in front of him.

"What I remember is that you're one of the good guys," Alan replied. "You always have been and you always will be."

Don seemed uncomfortable with the praise, but Alan didn't regret it. Don was silent for a few seconds, before seeming to come to a decision.

"Do you want to know why I decided to go into law enforcement?" Don asked quietly.

"Because you knew it was something you'd be good at?" Alan suggested.

"Partly," Don allowed. "But there was more to it than that." He took a deep breath and then looked his father square in the eyes. "Do you remember that day when I was three, and you and Mom took me to one of your sit-ins?"

Alan swallowed. "Ah yes…that would be a little hard to forget, especially since it ended with my second arrest," Alan replied, unable to prevent a little bit of shame from rising up. He had no doubt, even all these years later, that they had done the right thing back then, that they had fought the right fight, but he hated that Donnie had a memory of his father being arrested…

Alan took a deep breath. "Son, I'm sor-"

Don waved him off. "It's fine, I'm over it now. But you want to know what I thought when the cops were pulling you away in handcuffs?"

Alan shook his head mutely.

"I was glad," Don told him and Alan flinched in spite of himself. "I was glad, because everyone around us…they were pushing and shoving and yelling, and I was…I was scared, Dad. So when I saw that cop taking you away from all that, I was glad, because to me that meant you would be safe. To my little kid brain, that cop was saving you."

"Donnie…"

"I mean, I know better now," Don shrugged. "I know the cops were as much a part of the problem as the protesters that day. But I guess it stuck with me, because that's why I joined the FBI when baseball didn't work out. I wanted to keep people safe."

"You do," Alan told him. "Every day, that's what you do."

Dan shrugged again. "Yeah, well sometimes it doesn't feel like that."

"But you do," Alan told him, with no doubt whatsoever in his voice. "Don, your job…when I heard that you wee going to join the FBI, my first thought _was '_ where did I go wrong?' I don't deny that."

"I – "

"But," Alan continued. "My second, almost immediate thought was that you were born to be a cop. You were born to be a damn _good_ cop."

"Dad," Don said. He looked pained, and just a little bit hopeful. Maybe some of this was getting through after all.

" _I'm_ the one who should be sorry, Donnie," Alan said before his son could argue with him. "I'm sorry for ever giving you the impression that I was anything but incredibly proud of you."

"I…really?" Don said, and he looked so much like the little boy he'd been that Alan smiled. "I mean…you not just saying that?"

"I don't say things I don't mean, remember?" Alan told him pointedly.

"Right."

"You keep people safe, Don," Alan said simply, and this time Don smiled at the reference. "Everyday you go out there and keep people safe. How can a father not be proud of his son for that?"

Don didn't say anything in response, but he didn't need to. His small smile – relief and happiness all rolled into one – said it all. Alan suddenly wished they'd had this conversation years ago.

The silence was comfortable then, and Alan felt himself finally relax. Maybe, he thought to himself, the past should stay in the past, where it couldn't do any more harm. Maybe it was finally time to move on. And maybe every now and then he needed to remind himself that there were other things – other _people,_ right here in the present, that were much more important.

"So, my son," Alan said finally, pulling himself up. "It's not too late to eat, and I know you don't have anything in your fridge..."

Don wrinkled his nose at the accusation, but didn't deny it.

"How about we go grab a bite to eat?" Alan suggested. "Your treat."

Don stood up, which Alan took for agreement. Don turned to face him.

"Fine….Commie," Donnie said, and miraculously his son followed it up with a teasing smile. It was a little tentative, almost as if he expected some sort of backlash, but it was there. For Alan, that was enough. More than enough.

"G-Man," Alan replied with a smirk, his own smile a little tentative as he watched his son closely.

Don laughed at that, and Alan allowed himself to laugh as well.

Maybe, just maybe, it was alright to laugh after all.

* * *

 **A/N –** So, what did you think? I'm always conscious that I'm a British person writing American characters, so I hope they "sound" right. Don is without a doubt my favourite character in Numb3rs, but Alan comes a very close second. I hope I did them both justice! If you've got a spare minute or two, I'd love to hear your thoughts, but if not, I hope you enjoyed it anyway, and thanks for reading!


End file.
